


Ophelia Rising

by velvetjinx



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Blood and Gore, Horror, M/M, Psychological Horror, Stucky Scary Bang 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 04:38:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12425187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetjinx/pseuds/velvetjinx
Summary: When Steve and Bucky move in together in a small town in upstate New York, they both feel like their lives couldn't get any better. But there's just something about Bucky's grandmother's doll that makes Steve uneasy.





	Ophelia Rising

**Author's Note:**

> Oh gosh I loved writing this! Thanks to the mods of this challenge for setting it up, and 743ish for the beta, and everyone who cheerleaded. You all are the best!

Steve looked over at Bucky, sitting in the passenger side of their Mustang, and smiled before turning his attention back to the narrow country road. He checked in his rearview mirror--the removals van was still following them. Good. 

“Hey, Steve, look,” Bucky said suddenly, pointing. “There it is!”

And there it was. Their new home. No more would they have to timeshare between each other's apartments. This place was theirs, bought and (partially, anyway) paid for, and Steve couldn't have been happier. 

It was a really beautiful old house, on the outskirts of the town of Alexander in upstate New York, near an old wood. There was a river bubbling past the large back yard, and a sense of peace over the whole place. The house had recently been repainted, and the wood gleamed white in the afternoon sunlight. There was a porch swing which Steve intended to buy some comfy cushions for, and a screen door to keep out the flies. 

In short, it was their little patch of heaven on earth. 

They pulled into the driveway and the removals van pulled in after them. Steve and Bucky stood, looking up at their beautiful new home, and Steve squeezed Bucky's hand. 

“We did it,” he said softly, and Bucky grinned at him. 

***

Steve and Bucky had been together for five years, having met at work. They were both high school teachers--art and physics, respectively--which was one of the reasons they'd been able to move upstate. The local high school had been crying out for experienced teachers, and Steve had seen the ad in the morning paper as he and Bucky were eating their breakfast. 

“Hey, babe, look at this,” Steve had said, passing the paper over to Bucky and pointing to the relevant paragraph. 

Bucky peered at it. “Experienced teachers in various subjects required for the local high school in the town of Alexander, Genesee County, New York. Blah blah blah, beautiful town, blah blah, apply here…so what?”

“So what? Buck, we could get a house there. Move out the city, get out into the countryside.”

“Get a house?” Bucky asked, grinning. “Steven Grant Rogers, are you asking me to move in with you?”

“I… yeah, I am,” Steve replied, blushing. “Bucky, will you move in with me in a little house with a white picket fence in a small town?”

Bucky got up, going around the table to sit on Steve's lap and kiss him soundly. “Let's do it, baby.”

And now they were here, a week before the start of the school year, and six months after they had initially seen the advertisement. 

It took them what seemed like forever to unload all their crap from the van into the house, but finally they were waving off the removals guys and walking up to their door. 

“I feel like I should carry you over the threshold,” Steve said with a grin. 

“Okay, one, I'm not a dame, and two, you have yet to make an honest man of me, Rogers. If and when that happens, I will consider letting you carry me over the threshold.”

Steve laughed and tried to pick him up anyway, which led to an all out tickle fight in their new front yard. It was lucky there were no neighbors close enough to see them. 

***

“Ugh, unpacking is a pain in the ass,” Bucky called through to Steve from the living room. “I can't remember where half the shit we packed is.”

Steve smiled to himself as he opened another kitchen box, then looked in horror at its contents. 

“Uh, Buck? Can you come here a minute?”

Bucky came through the door a few moments later, tucking a sweaty strand of hair behind his ear. “What is it, babe?”

“That is a really good question,” Steve replied slowly, pointing to the box. 

Bucky looked inside and laughed, picking up the offending object. “What, you don't like her?” He held the porcelain doll up beside his face, his hand buried in her ruffly blue and white Victorian dress. “Ophelia, isn't that just terrible?”

“It's so creepy,” Steve said with a shudder. The doll’s large blue eyes seemed to be staring at him, and the fake-looking blonde curls simply added to the weirdness. 

“Yeah, well, she was my grandma’s--a family heirloom, in fact--and Becca didn't want her, so…”

Steve nodded. Bucky's grandma had passed away only a couple of weeks ago, after a bad fall down the stairs. It was due, in part, to the generous sum she had left Bucky in her will that they'd been able to make the down payment on their house. 

“So, where should we put her?” Bucky asked. 

“Uh, the living room, I guess. On the mantel.”

Bucky kissed him briefly and took the doll through with him to the living room. Steve shuddered again. Maybe he could get away with hiding the doll when Bucky was out. 

***

Steve sighed, putting the damn doll back on the mantel. Bucky kept moving it around the place when Steve wasn't there, and it was starting to get annoying. But then, maybe he was trying to find a place that it fitted, since the mantel was high, and perhaps not the best place for a fragile porcelain doll. 

This time, it had been on the large, green window seat, positioned as if it were looking out over the garden with its blue, sightless eyes. 

At least, Steve hoped they were sightless. 

He shivered, laughing off the thought. Now he was just being stupid. It was just a doll--a really weird, creepy doll, but still just a doll. 

As Steve wandered through to the kitchen to grab himself a coffee, Bucky came in from the garden. He had a pair of green gardening gloves on, and dirt on his knees, elbows, and cheek. Steve felt himself falling in love all over again. 

“Hey, babe,” Bucky said, pulling Steve in for a kiss. “We're gonna have to buy some rat traps, I think. I heard that scratching in the walls again.”

“I hope there's not a nest,” Steve replied, grimacing. He had a horror of rats. 

“Nah,” Bucky said reassuringly. “But an old house this close to woods? There's probably a few, so the sooner we get those traps down, the better.”

“Yeah, good idea.”

“You got much grading to do tonight?” Bucky asked. 

“Nah. You?”

Bucky shook his head. “How about we stick on a movie after dinner?”

“Sounds good,” Steve said with a smile. “Something with a lot of explosions?”

“Well, duh!” Bucky's tone was fond, and Steve had to kiss him. 

***

The house was great, but there were a couple of rooms that looked a little shabby, and Steve resolved to give them a lick of paint. So that weekend, Steve found himself in old clothes, pouring a tin of magnolia paint into a paint tray. 

“Need any help, babe?” Bucky asked as he passed. 

“Nah, I'm good,” Steve called back. Bucky paused in the doorway and looked Steve up and down before wolf whistling at him. 

“Lookin’ good, sugar,” he said with a laugh. 

“Thanks,” Steve responded, winking. 

“I haven't seen those pants in years. You know there's a hole in the ass, right?”

“Which is why I'm wearing them to paint,” Steve said with a grin. 

“By the way, the traps are still empty.”

Steve frowned. “That's weird. We should have caught something by now. I'm still hearing them.”

“Yeah.” Bucky shrugged. “Anyway, I'll leave you to it.

Bucky blew him a kiss, and Steve laughed, then set to work. He managed to finish two walls before his back began to get a little stiff, so he left the paint tray on the floor, on top of the dust sheet, and went for a walk around the garden to stretch his legs. 

When he returned, his eyes widened. There were paint footprints all over the dust sheet, as though someone had stepped in the tray and walked all over it. 

“Buck!” Steve called, annoyed. He'd really expected Bucky to be a little bit more mature. 

“What is it?” Bucky asked as he walked into the room, and his eyebrows went up when he noticed the footprints. “Get bored of painting the walls?”

Steve gave him a long look. “Buck, why did you do this?”

“Me?” Bucky asked with a laugh. “Steve, I've been in the bedroom this whole time trying to get a stain out the bedside rug on my side.”

“Well, someone did this, and it wasn't me.”

Bucky held up his hands. “It wasn't me either.” He grinned. “Maybe it was a ghoooost!”

“Very funny, Bucky. Why don't you just own up to it?”

Bucky’s expression turned to confusion. “Steve, I--I swear, it wasn't me?”

“Shit, has someone been in the house?” 

Together, they searched every room, but no one was there and nothing seemed to be missing. 

“Maybe it was just a local teenager who thought it would be funny?” Bucky reasoned, and Steve shrugged. 

“Maybe.”

But he wasn't convinced. 

***

The following day, Steve decided to take a walk through the woods near the house. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and the sun shone down, dappled through the leaves of the old, tall trees. 

He followed the river for a while, then the path forked so he took the right hand path. The woods got a little darker, and while there had been cheery birdsong before, the woods around him were now eerily quiet. Steve began to whistle to himself, but the loud noise sounded odd in the silence of the woods so he soon stopped. 

Steve looked uncertainly at the path in front of him. It seemed to get even darker the further it went on, and there was a strange feeling, as though something wasn't quite right. 

He shook himself firmly. He was just being stupid. There was nothing creepy in the woods--he very much doubted that serial killers were roaming the woods around a small town, current population less than three thousand, where everyone knew everyone. Yet still he couldn't make himself walk on. 

There was an odd noise behind him--it sounded almost like a small child giggling. He whirled around, but there was nothing there. 

_Probably the wind in the bushes_ , he reasoned. _Or even a bird. Could have been anything_. But the uneasiness continued. 

There was a scurrying noise behind him and he whipped his head around to look, but all that was in front of him was trees and bushes, and the occasional wildflower. He rolled his eyes at himself. He knew he was being ridiculous, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. 

He saw something moving out the corner of his eye, but on closer inspection it was just the leaves blowing in the breeze. He shivered. It was starting to get chilly out now. Best to turn back to the house. 

When he got back, Bucky was sitting on the porch swing, reading. “You okay, Steve?” he asked. “You look a little pale.”

“I'm fine,” Steve said with a laugh. “Just went for a walk and managed to freak myself out.”

“Aww, babe,” Bucky said, grinning. “I'll come with you next time and protect you from the big, bad bunnies, shall I?” 

Steve flipped him off and went into the house on a wave of Bucky's laughter. The doll was on the window seat again and Steve sighed, picking it up. There was a small leaf on the doll’s dress, and he looked at it curiously, before shrugging and brushing it off. 

***

They were still hearing scratching in the walls almost every day, but the rat traps remained empty. 

“Maybe we need to get a professional exterminator in?” Steve said to Bucky one night as they lay snuggled in bed. 

“Hmm, maybe,” Bucky replied, then yawned. “Ugh, I'm beat. Trying to teach physics to teenagers who really don't care about the subject is exhausting.”

“Poor baby,” Steve said, kissing the top of Bucky's head. “That's one thing about teaching art--the students are usually pretty engaged.”

“Lucky.” Bucky yawned again. “Anyway, time for sleep. Goodnight, babe.”

“Goodnight, Bucky.”

Steve quickly fell into a deep sleep. He was dreaming about being in the house and looking for Bucky, but being unable to find him, when he jerked awake. He could hear the wind blowing outside as the rain hit the window. He sighed--there had better not be a storm. Steve couldn't deal with the power being out--he needed his morning shower. He grabbed his phone off the bedside table and checked the time. Three a.m., great. 

He could hear the scratching in the wall behind their bed, and shuddered. Fucking rats. 

As the wind outside rattled the window pane, the scratching seemed to get louder. Steve froze as the noise increased, then suddenly turned into a loud, dull thudding on the wall, as though someone were actually in the wall trying to get out. 

“What the hell?” he mouthed as the thudding got louder, and louder, and louder…

The thudding stopped as soon as it had started, and the room was nearly silent. As Steve lay in the dark room, adrenaline pulsing through his veins, he heard the distinct sound of scurrying across the wooden floor. He lay very still, praying that the rats would get caught in the traps this time, but there was only silence in the darkness. 

The storm outside was picking up, and suddenly there was a flash of lightning, illuminating the room. Steve glanced towards the window as the lightning flashed again, and gasped, frozen in place. 

There, on the windowsill where she had not been when he'd gone to bed, was the doll. 

Steve switched on the light and shook Bucky awake, keeping an eye on the doll as she sat sedately, her back to the window as she looked out over the room. 

“Steve?” Bucky said blearily. “What's wrong? What time is it?”

“Did you bring the doll in here after I went to sleep?” Steve asked urgently. 

“No? Why would I do that?”

“I don't know, but the _doll is in the room_.”

“Bullshit,” Bucky said, yawning. He sat up, looking over to the window, and his eyes widened when he saw her. “Steve… what the fuck?”

“I don't know, Buck, but something seriously fucking weird is happening right now,” Steve said, tone slightly hysterical. “I woke up and the scratching got louder, then turned into like this thumping noise, then it just stopped. I heard something run across the floor, and then the doll was in the window.”

Bucky shook his head and laughed. “Come on, Steve. Are you suggesting that the doll is alive? Come on, that's bullshit. Dolls can't come to life. It's impossible. Maybe you sleepwalked and brought her in here.”

“Buck, I've never sleepwalked in my life.” Steve shook his head. “That's it. That doll is getting locked away in the hall closet until we figure out what to do with it. No arguments,” he added, as Bucky opened his mouth. “This is really freaking me out. At least if it's locked away, I'll feel safer.”

“I think you're being ridiculous,” Bucky told him, “but fine, if it'll make you feel better.”

Steve got up and picked the doll up from the windowsill, taking it out to the hall closet. He put it on one of the higher shelves, burying it under a pile of spare blankets, and closed the door firmly, locking it and taking the key. 

He padded back through to the bedroom, and put the key on the bedside table before climbing back into bed. 

“Feel better?” Bucky asked, looking amused. 

“Much,” Steve replied. 

“Okay. Can we go back to sleep now? We're both gonna be exhausted in the morning as it is.”

Steve kissed him. “Sure.”

Bucky snuggled into his side, and Steve allowed himself to drift off into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

When the alarm went off the next morning, waking them both, Steve yawned and stretched, before rolling over to face the window. He opened his eyes and let out a yell, sitting upright. 

“Steve?” Bucky sat up and looked at him. “What's wrong?”

Steve pointed towards the window, and Bucky gasped. There, on the windowsill, staring at them, was the doll. 

Steve looked down. The key was where he'd left it the night before. 

“Bucky,” he murmured, “please tell me that you're fucking with me.”

“I swear I'm not, Steve,” Bucky whispered. “What the fuck is going on?”

“I think your grandma’s doll might be possessed,” Steve replied, and Bucky let out a short laugh. 

“Possessed? Steve, that doesn't really happen. You've been watching way too many horror movies.”

“I'm telling you, Bucky. If you didn't move it, and I didn't move it, then it moved by itself! I think we should take it to a psychic.”

Bucky snorted. “A psychic? Really? Steve, they're all charlatans. There's no such thing as ghosts.”

“It might not be a ghost,” Steve said darkly. “It could be something worse.”

“Uh huh. Steve--”

“Please, Bucky. For my own peace of mind?”

Bucky looked at him and sighed. “Fine. We'll find a psychic. But I'd like to put it on record that I think this is ridiculous. There must be a logical explanation.”

But of course there was no logical explanation, Steve knew. Their doors and windows were locked so no one could get in, and then there was the issue of the closet key. It could have been Bucky, but Bucky swore up and down that it wasn't him, and Steve trusted him not to lie about something like this. 

He was distracted all day in his classes, and the kids noticed and took advantage of it, playing up the whole day. Steve couldn't bring himself to care. He managed to find a psychic in town, a woman called Natasha, who claimed she could talk to spirits and read objects. When lunchtime came, Steve called her up and made an appointment. She didn't ask for details, but Steve figured they could fill her in when they saw her. 

After work that day, Steve and Bucky drove home, picked up the doll, and drove to the psychic’s house. Bucky carried the doll as they walked up to the psychic's house, and Steve rang the loud, chiming doorbell. 

The door opened a few moments later, and a young red-haired woman stood in the doorway. Steve had expected her to be all bejeweled with floaty scarves, but instead she was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that said ‘My Face Is Up Here’ with an arrow above it. She opened her mouth to speak, then looked at the doll and her eyes widened. 

“Sorry, gentlemen, but you're not bringing that thing into my house,” she told them firmly. 

“Why not?” Bucky asked indignantly. 

“Because I don't want him attaching to me.”

Bucky looked at her incredulously. “The doll is a girl.”

“Yeah, but what's inside her isn't.” The psychic sighed. “And frankly, the fact that you're even near me with it is freaking me out, so let's make this quick.”

“What's… inside her?” Steve said slowly. “What do you mean?”

“That doll is possessed by a demon,” she said seriously. “He calls himself Pierce, and he's been attached to your family for at least a couple of centuries. From what I can tell without touching it--and I'm not touching it, thanks--he's been in the doll since the late eighteen-hundreds, probably because they tried to get rid of him and he hid there.”

“That's ridiculous,” Bucky scoffed. “Why would a demon attach itself to my family?”

“That I don't know,” she said, shrugging. “Could be a number of reasons, most likely one of the family was dabbling in something they shouldn't be.”

“But my grandma had the doll for a few years, since she inherited it off her cousin, and she never said anything,” Bucky said. 

“Hon, I don't know how to tell you this, but that doll is responsible for your grandma's death.”

Bucky froze. “What the hell do you mean? My grandma took a bad fall, that's all.”

“And who do you think tripped her down the stairs?” The psychic sighed. “What's inside that doll is pure evil, and it's feeding off both your energies and getting stronger. You want to get rid of it as soon as possible.”

“Get rid of it?” Steve asked through a mouth gone dry. “How?”

“I can give you a card. Wait here.” She closed the door behind her, and Steve and Bucky waited patiently on her doorstep. When she returned, she handed Steve a business card. “Call this guy,” she told them. “He has experience with possessed and cursed objects. He'll take it.”

Steve took the card and looked at it. It read: ‘ _Tony Stark: Paranormal Specialist_ ’, followed by a telephone number. Bucky read the card over Steve's shoulder and sighed. 

“‘Paranormal Specialist’? Really?”

“Believe it or don't,” the psychic said, her gaze piercing. “But you are in danger as long as you have that doll. If you love your partner, you'll get rid of it.”

Something in her tone must have got through to Bucky, because his eyes widened. “Okay.”

“Now, if you don't mind, please leave, because it's starting to try and feed off me too, and there's only so long I can block it.”

Steve and Bucky thanked the woman and went back to the car. Steve drove them home, the doll on Bucky's lap. 

As they pulled into the driveway, the porch light started flickering. 

“I think we need to buy some bulbs,” Bucky said with a smile, and Steve nodded. But as they walked into the house, both their expressions turned serious. 

All the lights they could see were flickering on and off, as though the electricity was shorting out in every room. There was scratching and thumping coming from behind the walls. As they watched, the living room curtains began to billow inward, even though the windows were closed and there was no draft. 

Steve and Bucky glanced at each other, and Bucky threw the doll down on the sofa. They ran upstairs and quickly packed some clothes, then escaped back to the car. 

“Where should we go?” Steve asked, panicked. 

“The motel on the other side of town. We can phone that guy from there.”

They booked themselves into the motel for the night, and went to their room, both of them ignoring the ugly wallpaper and uglier carpet. 

Steve took the card and his phone from his pocket and dialed the number. 

“ _Tony Stark?_ ”

“Hi, Mr Stark, my name is Steve Rogers. We have a… a situation, and I've been advised that you can help?”

“ _Possessed doll? Natasha called and told me you might be in touch._ ”

Steve blinked in surprise. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, that's us.”

“ _Are you in the house with it just now?_ ” Mr Stark asked. 

“No,” Steve replied. “We left the doll at the house because some weird things were happening, and we've gone to a motel.”

“ _What kinds of weird things?_ ”

“Uh, lights flickering on and off, scratching and banging on the walls, stuff moving in the breeze except there was no breeze…”

“ _It sounds like the situation is escalating. What's your address?_ ” 

Steve reeled off the address of the house. 

“ _I can be there in an hour’s time. Hopefully once I take the doll off your hands, you can get back to normal._ ”

“Thank you so much, Mr Stark,” Steve said gratefully. “You have no idea what good news that is.”

“ _Believe me, I have some idea. Okay, I'll meet you outside your house in one hour._ ”

Steve thanked him again and hung up. “He's gonna meet us there in an hour,” he told Bucky, who wrapped his arms around Steve's waist, burying his face in Steve's neck. 

“God, baby, why is this happening to us?” Bucky murmured. “If what that woman said is true--if that doll really killed my grandma--then it's evil and we need to get rid of it now.”

“I don't see why she would lie,” Steve replied. “It's not like we paid her. But we're taking action, and that's the important thing. Once this guy takes the doll away, everything will go back to normal.”

They were both too on edge to settle to anything like watching TV, so they sat together in silence until it was time to go. 

They arrived at the house just as another car was pulling into the driveway. A man in a suit and sunglasses got out. Steve and Bucky went to meet him, and they all shook hands. 

“Mr Rogers?” the man said, and Steve smiled wanly. 

“That's me, and this is my partner, Bucky Barnes.”

“Nice to meet you both. I’m Tony Stark. I'm sorry you've had this happen to you, but hopefully me taking the doll off your hands will leave you free to live a normal life.”

He went to his car and took out what looked like a large hamster cage. When he saw them looking at it curiously, he held it up. 

“Iron. Demons hate it.”

Steve led them up to the house and unlocked the door. 

Inside the house it was freezing--so cold that Steve could see his breath. Bucky and Mr Stark followed him through to the living room, almost bumping into him when he stopped short. 

The doll was sitting against the fireplace, covered in magnolia paint, a large paintbrush lying beside it. On the wall above the mantel, in large, still-dripping letters, were the words: 

yOu’RE MInE.

“Jesus,” Bucky whispered, and Mr Stark looked at him, his expression grim. 

“Jesus has nothing to do with this, I'm afraid. There is nothing holy here.” He strode over to the fireplace and grabbed the doll, placing it in the iron cage and closing the door tight. He took a padlock out of his pocket and padlocked the cage shut, before turning to Steve and Bucky. “I think I got here just in time. You both were in very real danger, and if the doll has gathered enough energy to do this…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

Steve swallowed hard. “Is this the end of it?” he asked quietly. 

Mr Stark gave him a small smile. “For you, certainly. I'm going to try and research getting the demon out of the doll and back where it came from. Since we know which demon it is, hopefully it won't take too long.”

Steve and Bucky walked him out, and they all shook hands. 

“You take care of each other,” Mr Stark told them as he put the doll cage into the back seat of his car, before climbing in himself. 

“We will,” Steve vowed. “Thank you, Mr Stark.”

“Call me Tony,” he replied with a grin, and drove off towards the main road. Steve and Bucky drove back to the motel in silence. 

When they arrived, Steve collapsed backwards onto the bed, exhaling loudly. 

“You know, we could take our stuff and go home,” he said quietly. 

“I don't think I can face it just yet,” Bucky replied in a whisper. “Steve, that doll… the paint on the wall…”

“Hey, hey.” Steve got up and wrapped Bucky in his arms. “It's okay. The doll is gone now, and we can get back to normal. Tomorrow’s Saturday so I can paint over the living room walls and then it'll all be fine. No more scares, no more dolls.”

Bucky nodded, burying his head into Steve's shoulder, and Steve smiled to himself. They were free. 

***

The next day, after they got home from grocery shopping, Steve spent the day painting the living room. Bucky refused to go in while the words were still on the wall, but once they were gone, Steve led him through. 

“See? All gone.”

Bucky smiled sadly at him. “I can't believe I put you in danger like that, Steve. And I didn't believe you! If you hadn't insisted…”

“Hey, shhh, it's okay, Buck. You weren't to know. We got it sorted, and it's fine.”

“You're so forgiving,” Bucky said with a sniff.

“Yeah, well, I love you. Idiot,” Steve said fondly. 

“I love you too, Steve,” Bucky replied, kissing him. “Let's go out to dinner to celebrate, what do you say?”

“Sounds amazing,” Steve responded. 

***

Over the next few days, things got back to normal. There was no more scratching at the walls, no more thumping, no more electrical anomalies. They went out for dinner together to celebrate, and Bucky drank so much wine that Steve basically had to pour him into bed that night. 

Nearly a week later, they were driving home together from work, laughing and joking about their days, when something small ran across the road in front of them. Steve slammed on the brakes, but it had already gone. 

“Fucking squirrels,” he cursed under his breath. 

“Or rabbits,” Bucky supplied helpfully. 

“Yeah, those too.”

They pulled into their driveway a few minutes later. 

“What do you want for dinner?” Steve asked as he unlocked the door.

“I don't know, something quick,” Bucky replied. “I can't be bothered cooking toni…”

He trailed off as they walked into the living room and they both stared bug-eyed at the sight in front of them.

Tony Stark lay on the floor in front of the fireplace, eyes wide and unseeing as they stared at the ceiling. His throat was a gaping wound, and his blood pooled around him, soaking into the carpet. 

The doll, sitting beside him, knife in hand, was drenched in blood. And on the wall, drying a deep red, was written:

MIsSed YOu

Steve and Bucky looked at each other, both of them taking deep breaths to scream, when there was a movement out the corner of their eye and they turned to see the doll lunging at them, knife held high…

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr where I'm velvetjinx too!


End file.
